


Let My Love Loose Again

by sunfair



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Fantasy Fulfillment, M/M, Near Future, No Angst, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:38:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3357860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunfair/pseuds/sunfair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Bitty like to talk about what they'd do with Kent Parson, hypothetically of course. Then the Falconers play the Aces in Vegas, and Jack brings Bitty along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let My Love Loose Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadeblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadeblue/gifts).



> This is a gift for shadeblue for the Check, Please! Valentine's Day exchange. Happy V-Day!

Jack has a condo in Providence that overlooks the river, and when the sun comes up, the light filters through the thin gap in the window treatments and advances gradually along the bedroom floor. Bitty likes to lie there and watch the little sliver of light as it makes its way across the expanse of grey carpeting, evidence that time and the movement of the universe are a reliable constant.

Forty minutes still feels like half a world away sometimes, when Bitty is buried in coursework and their schedules run opposite too many days in a row. But it's worth it for the look on Jack's face when Bitty drops his bag in the foyer and fits himself into Jack’s arms, quickly catching up on missed kisses.

Jack is still quiet sometimes, still broody; his first NHL pre-season was a constant test of Bitty’s patience. But they emerged from it even stronger somehow, and Bitty knows how hard Jack tries, to express himself instead of shutting down, and to at least give Bitty a chance to listen. Bitty, on the other hand, has absolutely no issue telling Jack exactly how he’s feeling about anything and everything: from the fabric choice of Jack’s new sofa, to the way he organizes his kitchen, to just how well those designer boxer briefs are working for him. Jack just tilts his head a bit and grins fondly as he listens, more or less letting Bitty have what he wants every time.

Bitty especially has no trouble anymore talking to Jack in bed. It took awhile—between Bitty’s lack of real experience and Jack’s innate avoidance of everything remotely emotional—but once they learned to work through all that, they figured out in a hurry just how beneficial that particular course of communication could be. Sometimes it’s serious, with Bitty telling Jack what he wants and how he wants it; sometimes it’s playful and they laugh at themselves for being ridiculous—having sex can be way more silly at times than Bitty ever imagined—and then sometimes, Jack will say something really soft and sincere and unexpected, and Bitty’s chest will ache from just how much he loves him.

“You should tell me something,” Bitty says one night, still sprawled naked and sated on top of Jack, his arms tucked snug at Jack’s sides.

“Such as?” Jack replies. He slides one of his big hands down Bitty’s back, resting it on the swell of his backside.

“Something I don’t know about you yet.” Bitty lets his gaze flicker over Jack’s features, the lingering flush blooming on his cheeks, the way his hairline is still a little shiny from exertion.

Jack blinks up at him in silence for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “You mean like, a sexy thing?”

“Sure,” Bitty grins, endeared. “Whatever you’d like.”

“Okay, erm,” Jack begins, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile. “There was this one time when I, uh. I got a blowjob. In a library. I guess that counts as sexy, eh?”

Bitty’s mouth drops open and he gasps a little. “Jack Laurent.”

Jack’s cheeks somehow go even pinker. “It was very foolish of me, actually.”

“Wait, was this at Samwell? Jack, were you in Founders?” Bitty pictures the tall shelves and the dark wood and the numerous study rooms, thinking of Jack tucked away in a shadowed corner, trying to keep quiet.

“No, no,” Jack says, shifting a little, biting back his grin. “This was back in Quebec.”

“That,” Bitty says, dropping a kiss onto Jack’s chin, “is incredibly sexy.”

“You think?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Bitty hums, fitting his lips to Jack’s, kissing him deeply. “I wish I could have seen that,” he admits, quieter, before he’s really thought it through.

Jack tenses slightly, and Bitty pulls back slowly to meet his gaze again, smiling at him reassuringly.

“I mean,” Bitty says, pushing through his hesitation. “I like looking at you. Watching you. As you get off.”

“Bitty,” Jack says quietly, like he always does when he’s not sure how to respond.

Bitty brushes his lips against Jack’s again, light and fleeting this time. “I think sometimes I’d even like—just watching you kiss someone.”

“Bittle,” Jack grins, and then rolls them over, putting Bitty on his back, settling on top of him.

“Hmm?”

“You want to see me kiss somebody else, eh?”

Bitty shrugs one shoulder, tipping his chin up confidently. “It’s a thing, you know. I’m allowed to like it.”

“That’s not the point,” Jack says, nuzzling at Bitty’s neck.

“Then what is the point, Jack?” Bitty says, drawing one knee up to get some leverage, pressing his body up against Jack’s.

Jack makes a small sound of satisfaction, pressing back. “You know you’re only the second guy I’ve ever kissed, yeah?”

“I did not know that,” Bitty replies, exhaling hard when Jack’s mouth finds his collarbone.

“It’s true,” Jack says into Bitty’s shoulder.

Bitty very nearly holds his tongue on his next thought, but he has Jack breathing warm onto his skin and he’s pretty sure they’re headed for another round. “So it was Kent? In the library?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, his voice dropping. He shifts so he can curl his hand around Bitty’s thigh, grasping him tight, pushing his thighs apart to move between them. “Does that bother you?”

“God no,” Bitty breathes out, going pliant, letting Jack position him. “That’s really—you’re both so—”

“Hm?” Jack hums, kissing his way up Bitty’s throat to his jaw. “Tell me.”

“I’d watch you fuck him,” Bitty says, his pulse racing with the confession. “If I could.”

Jack kisses him, hard.

They return to the topic—not always during sex, and not every time they have it—but over and over they discuss what they’d do with the opportunity to get Kent Parson alone and naked. It’s always specifically Kent when they talk about it, never anyone else or anyone random. Bitty sometimes worries slightly that maybe it’s a little weird, discussing Jack’s ex like that and being so unbothered by it, so excited by it in fact.

But Jack is different about Kent, now that he has his own rightfully earned place on an NHL team. It’s not like how it was when Jack was trying to prove himself at Samwell, and watching as Kent ticked off all of Jack’s personal goals one by one before Jack ever had the chance. Jack’s focus is still borderline obsessive, and he’s determined more than ever to hoist that Stanley Cup trophy over his head as soon as he possibly can, but Bitty’s pretty sure at this point, that’s just who Jack is. It’s not rooted in envy and comparisons anymore; Jack owns his trajectory and all the circumstances—good and bad—that put him where he is.

“Is he a good kisser?” Bitty asks one night, tucked up in bed with his laptop, watching Jack’s face on the screen.

“I dunno,” Jack says, grinning and looking down to hide it.

“Sure you do.”

Jack shrugs. “I can’t really remember, I guess.”

“Hmm,” Bitty hums, skeptical.

“Look, we were kids, yeah?” Jack says, distracted as his phone chimes. Bitty watches him locate it, and then grab it up. “We had no idea what we were doing—oh, that's weird,” Jack says.

“What’s weird?”

“Erm, Kent just sent me a text.”

“Ooh, what’s it say?” Bitty asks.

“It says, ‘Hi Jack.’ And then a smiley face.”

Bitty grins. “Tell him hi from me.”

“Bittle,” Jack smiles.

“What? A friendly hi. A hello. A polite how are you.”

“I’ll reply tomorrow,” Jack says, setting his phone aside again.

“Don’t forget,” Bitty says.

“I won’t,” Jack says, but Bitty has his doubts.

Bitty doesn’t see Jack for another two weeks. He goes down to Providence for the weekend, but Jack has games on Friday and Saturday and optional skates between, which are never optional in Jack’s mind. It’s not until Sunday afternoon, when Bitty’s packing up to head back to Samwell—his least favorite part of each visit—that Jack makes him stop, and sit with him on the bed, and tells Bitty he wants to ask him something.

Bitty searches Jack’s face nervously before Jack can even begin.

“You look a little terrified,” Jack says, but he’s almost grinning.

“Well, what is it?”

“I just wanted to know what you thought about maybe coming to one of my games on the road here soon.”

“Oh,” Bitty replies, confused. “Well, if I can make it, sure, you know I’d love to. Which one do you want me to be at? New York? Philly? Buffalo’s coming up but that’s kind of a trek, and I think it’s a Thursday. Are your parents flying in or something?”

Jack shakes his head a little. “No, nothing like that. I was thinking—Vegas.”

“Vegas?” Bitty says in disbelief, and then laughs a little, gesturing vaguely at the room as he thinks out loud. “Jack that’s—really far. Isn’t that soon? You know I can’t miss any more classes, I’m—”

“Bittle.” Jack takes Bitty’s hand. “Look at me.”

Bitty does, and Jack squeezes his hand.

“It’s a Saturday afternoon game. I have the next day off. I’ll buy your ticket, get us a nice hotel, eh?”

“Jack,” Bitty says quietly, frowning. “We’ve talked about this. I don’t want you spending all frivolously on me.”

Jack is quiet for a moment, and Bitty holds his gaze. “Bittle.”

“Hm?”

Jack sighs a little and scratches at his eyebrow with the edge of his thumbnail. “So what if, erm. What if maybe I’m not the only one who wants to see you in Vegas?”

It takes another moment for Bitty to get the pieces to click, and he blinks in surprise. “Oh.”

Jack raises an eyebrow, looking hopeful. “Yep.”

“Wait what? Are you talking about Kent Parson—?”

“Parse, yeah,” Jack says.

Bitty’s whole face goes hot, right to the tips of his ears, and he pulls his hand away. “Jack, what did you say to him?”

“Not—everything,” Jack says, shifting to dig his phone from his pocket. “We’ve just been texting some, here, read it.”

Jack hands his phone right over, and Bitty scrolls through the recent conversations with Kent, his heart thudding hard in his chest the entire time. It’s mostly hockey talk though; lots of discussion about highlights and the standings and movement in their divisions and where their respective teams are, with the associated chirping. Bitty is surprised to learn that it was Parse who suggested meeting up when Jack’s team is scheduled to be in Vegas, and that Jack had said yes, but that he wanted Bitty there too. Kent agreed—and Bitty grins at Jack’s phone when he reads how Kent asked about him, describing him as cute.

“Oh my lord,” Bitty says, cradling Jack’s phone to his chest for a brief moment. “I can’t believe Kent Parson thinks I’m cute.”

“Of course he does,” Jack says, leaning closer, ducking his head to nuzzle at Bitty’s cheek. “Because you are.”

“Jack,” Bitty says, tilting his face up. “You know this doesn’t necessarily mean that we—or that he would—you know.”

“I know,” Jack says, bringing his hand up to brush Bitty’s chin, turning his face to meet his gaze. “But we can meet up, eh? See what happens?”

Bitty’s still clutching Jack’s phone, and Jack has his thumb pressed to the front of Bitty’s chin, and Bitty feels like they’re about to kiss, but neither one of them are making the first move.

“Would you want something to happen?” Bitty asks quietly. “Like, for real?” He’s definitely going to miss his train, and he’s going to have to get the next one.

Jack takes a moment to answer, studying Bitty’s face. “Only if that’s what you wanted, too.”

Bitty grins big, taking hold of Jack’s hand again, easing it down from his chin so he can kiss him, full and firmly on the mouth.

“So... yes?” Jack asks.

“Yes,” Bitty nods. “Vegas, yes.”

The worst thing that could happen, Bitty keeps reminding himself—between agreeing to go and getting on the plane—is that they meet up with Kent and nothing changes. He refuses to entertain the idea that this will go badly or end with things being weird. He’s pretty confident that if Jack and Kent were able to stay friends after all they’d been through, one potentially awkward proposition in Las Vegas won’t make that much of a difference.

The best-case scenario, Bitty spends a lot more time thinking about. He talks through it with Jack, trying to anticipate what it could be like, how they might want things to go, how much of what they've discussed is actually on the table. At times Jack gets flustered and tries to change the subject, but Bitty presses on, because he’d rather set expectations beforehand than accidentally do something they’ll regret later.

“So what about—after?” Jack asks, his voice quiet and sleepy on the phone. He’s already out west.

“What about it?”

“We’ll still be, you know. Us.”

“Course,” Bitty says, easy and confident. “Always.”

“I don’t want that to change.”

“I’m with you,” Bitty says.

By the time he’s touching down in Vegas, his mind is filled with hypotheticals, his stomach fluttering with nerves.

The Las Vegas Aces have a swanky new arena, all clean and modern, enormous and sleek, and it’s completely sold out for the Falconers game. Bitty finds his seat and smiles softly to himself as he watches Jack skate out onto the ice. It takes him another moment to find Kent, but eventually Bitty spots him, and keeps tracking him even after the puck drops.

The Falconers open the scoring early on an odd-man rush, and the Aces answer before the first period buzzer. In the second, the Falconers go up again, only to have the Aces tie it right back up a few minutes afterward. The third period is a frantic battle to control the puck, with the goalies working hard to fend off shots on both ends. About halfway through the period, when Jack and Kent both happen to be on the ice, there’s a big scramble at the Falconers’ net; a tangle of limbs and sticks which ends when the horn sounds to indicate another Aces goal. Bitty’s heart sinks as the Aces convene in a celebratory hug, but then the players' heads all swivel to the left, reacting to a buzzer only they and the refs can make out. He knows before the announcement comes that Toronto's reviewing the goal. There's an audible groan from the crowd, and on the ice, the players loiter and lean on their sticks, waiting on the decision.

Kent drifts toward Jack, and Bitty watches as they end up side by side, exchanging quick words. He sees Kent say something into Jack’s ear, a smirk on his face, and Bitty bites his lower lip, a slight shiver of anticipation rolling through him.

A few seconds later, the referee comes back with the call: no goal. The crowd erupts with boos and jeering, and the game is still tied.

In the last two minutes of regulation, Jack’s line is up, and they work hard to keep possession, taking shot after shot to no avail. Then the puck is cleared to the Aces at center, but there’s a quick turnover almost right away, and Bitty watches as Jack grabs the pass and unloads it to his winger, clean and fast and angled perfectly. The shot goes top shelf, putting the Falconers in the lead with just a handful of seconds left on the clock.

Bitty stands up and cheers so loud that he ends up apologizing sheepishly to the family sitting in front of him. When it’s all over, the teams disappear into their tunnels, and Bitty has nothing left to do but locate the lounge where he’s supposed to wait.

It’s nearly an hour before Jack and Kent walk in together, side-by-side and dressed impeccably in their suits. They’re smiling and chatting quietly, their duffel bags slung loosely over their shoulders. In that moment Bitty can see it so clearly; the two of them back in juniors and on top of the world.

“Eric Bittle,” Kent says as he steps over, and Bitty stands up, hiding his surprise at how Kent pulls him immediately into a hug. It’s a solid embrace and Kent smells shower-fresh and expensive, the warm spice of his cologne lingering even after he pulls away.

“Good to see you again,” Bitty says, letting his gaze linger another moment before he turns to hug Jack and congratulate him on the win.

“Likewise,” Kent says, all suave charm.

Kent Parson, it turns out, already had some plans of his own for the three of them.

Bitty feels just a little underdressed in a button-down and jeans, while Jack and Kent are in their suits at dinner, but Kent reassures him repeatedly that it’s fine. He reserved a private table at a place Bitty’s not sure he could pronounce, and they arrive in a hired car. The server keeps coming in with plate after plate of small-portioned and strangely arranged food that they share while they catch up. The light is dim and the curtain divider is dark but Kent’s eyes are bright and he seems excited to have them there, speaking quickly and asking questions nonstop. Bitty catches the way Kent’s gaze lingers, the way he grins fondly whenever Jack starts talking, even if Jack’s words tend to come out stilted and a little awkward like they usually do. Kent insists on paying, only after Jack makes him promise to return the favor the next time Kent’s in Providence.

When they invite Kent to join them back to their hotel, he agrees without hesitation.

*

“Been a long time, Zimms.”

Kent is reclined on his section of the deep L-shaped sofa, near the corner and sprawling a little, the beer bottle in his hand tipped and resting casually against his stomach. Bitty and Jack are sitting perpendicular to him, and when Kent’s knee falls open it almost touches Bitty’s.

“Too long, yeah,” Jack agrees, sitting forward a little more, picking at the corner of the label on his own bottle.

They’re not quite shoulder-to-shoulder, but Bitty can still feel how twitchy Jack is, thrumming with unspent energy even after playing an entire hockey game. He watches Kent sip at his beer, his lips fitting to the mouth of the bottle, tilting it upward with his long fingers. Kent keeps his eyes on Jack the whole time. Bitty quickly tries to devise a plan to get this moving somehow—one way or another—everything from blatantly suggesting they all move over to the bed, to throwing caution away entirely and climbing right into Kent’s lap. He’s still not completely convinced it will actually work.

The lull in the conversation drags on, and Kent’s gaze flickers over, briefly meeting Bitty’s. His brow twitches a little, the perfect arch of it lifting, an unspoken question. He grins slightly, crooked and suggestive, and Bitty’s pulse skitters before racing wildly. He glances away but makes himself look back again, running his tongue quick over his lips.

Kent slouches just a tiny bit more, just far enough to tilt his knee so it bumps up against Bitty's. Bitty presses back, a sharp thrill racing right through him, and when he turns his face to glance at Jack, Jack surges toward him to kiss him.

Bitty's caught off guard, gasping a little in surprise as Jack's mouth collides with his own. Jack shifts and deepens the kiss and presses a hand to Bitty's face, holding him steady. Bitty closes his eyes and thinks about how Kent is watching and grabs hold of Jack's sleeve, clenching it tightly and groaning quietly into the kiss. Jack pulls back just as fast as he moved in, and Bitty blinks, casting a quick glance back toward Kent.

"C'mere, Parse," Jack says, staring at Kent, his voice low and urgent.

Kent doesn't say anything, just moves from where he's sitting to right beside Bitty, the sofa shifting under his weight, the outsides of their thighs pressed tight together. Jack reaches for him and leans in and Bitty barely has a chance to lean away, yielding enough room for them to kiss.

Their mouths meet and Kent keeps his eyes open at first, his brow furrowed in awe like he can't quite believe what's happening. Then his eyes close and he whimpers a little, his jaw dropping open as the kiss deepens. He leans on Bitty as Jack tucks a hand into his hair, shifting restlessly before pulling back, and Kent lingers, tipping forward trying to chase him.

Jack nudges Kent toward Bitty, and when Kent's lips meet his own, Bitty can't help but sigh a little, shaky with excitement. Kent moves differently than Jack does; the shape of his mouth and the taste of him are nothing like Jack at all, and Bitty doesn't want to stop. Kent gets a hand on his thigh and Jack still has his hand curled at the back of Kent's neck and then there's the press of Jack's lips to the shell of his ear, and Bitty breathes out hard, whining quietly at the end of it.

Jack stands up so fast that Bitty's heart lurches, his eyes going wide, but Jack is just tugging Kent to his feet, a hand in the crease of his elbow.

"Bed," Jack says, a little too insistent to be a request.

Kent's lips are shiny and flushed and he grins wide as he rises. "Alright, Zimms," he says, casual and cocky, reaching a hand out to Bitty in turn.

It's the biggest bed Bitty's ever seen, stacked with pillows and made up with smooth, soft sheets, and it's all the way on the other side of the sprawling hotel suite. There's nothing to impede their progress except one another, and the tangle of limbs in the hasty removal of clothing. After several fumbling attempts at shuffling and stripping amidst the continued exchange of kisses, all three of them stop with stuttered laughter. Kent's pants are at his ankles but he still has his shoes and shirt on; Jack's shirt is undone but hanging uselessly from his wrists, caught by the buttons on the cuffs. Bitty's down to a t-shirt, his jeans unfastened, hanging loose on his hips.

They decide without words to get Jack undressed first, then Kent, the process alternating between awkward and distractingly seductive. Bitty’s only a little self-conscious when it’s his turn, but he imagines anyone being stripped down by two professional, already-naked athletes might feel the same way. Kent’s not as broad as Jack, not as tall, but he’s lean and strong, his sharp hips framing a trail of dusky hair that travels down from his navel. He’s hard—all of them have been since before they left the sofa—and Bitty knows he’s staring but he can’t seem to stop.

When they reach the bed, climbing in on their knees, Jack nudges Bitty’s shoulders, urging him to lie back. Bitty reclines against the pile of pillows and Jack and Kent exchange glances before settling on either side of him, pressing close.

Bitty has one hand on Jack’s arm and the other curled around the back of Kent’s neck and they take turns kissing him, on the mouth, all over his neck and his shoulders and chest, until Bitty worries he might forget what it’s like to breathe normally. They touch him too, long sweeps of hands that roam the lines and contours of his stomach and hips and thighs, and Bitty can’t always figure out whose hand is where.

“Please,” Bitty says, driven to desperation, looking from Kent to Jack and back again.

Kent’s watching Jack even as he drops a line of kisses against Bitty’s chest, like he’s uncertain what he should—or could—do. He has a hand on the inside of Bitty’s thigh, fingers kneading against the muscle, and Bitty shifts his hips.

“Can I touch you?” Kent asks, meeting Bitty’s gaze. Jack inhales sharply, shifting at Bitty’s side, sucking a kiss against his neck.

“You can do anything you want to me,” Bitty says in a rush, and Kent breaks into a grin as Jack groans.

“Good to know,” Kent says, and when he starts to kiss Bitty’s skin again, he starts to shift downward.

“Oh—oh lord,” Bitty says as he watches Kent descend, gasping when Kent nips at the soft skin on his belly.

Beside him, Jack shifts around some more, sitting up and then back against the pillows. “C’mere,” he says, and Bitty lifts himself up to sitting, briefly interrupting Kent. They both shift over so Bitty can fit himself between Jack’s thighs, letting Jack hold him, his back and shoulders reclined against Jack’s chest.

Kent sits on his heels and folds himself forward, and before he even takes Bitty into his hand, Bitty whimpers quietly. Jack’s got one arm around his chest, breathing hard against Bitty’s temple, and Kent leans in to lick the slit at the tip of Bitty’s cock, running his tongue all over the head of it. He’s barely gotten started and already Bitty has to hold himself still, choking back a groan to keep from pushing his hips up. Kent’s shoulders shift and he glances up, and Bitty watches the muscles in his back, the long line of his spine, the way he curls forward as he takes Bitty into his mouth.

Bitty groans, shuddering in pleasure, and Jack’s arm flexes around him.

“Oh my god, yes,” Bitty says, a tight whisper. He reaches down with one hand, setting it lightly onto Kent’s shoulder, just wanting to touch him.

Jack’s other hand slides against Bitty’s stomach, and his muscles beneath it flutter with tension. Kent works up a steady rhythm with his hand and his mouth, his lips sinking to meet the ring of his thumb and forefinger over and over. Bitty can already feel the insistent tug of his climax stirring, spurred on by the drag of Jack’s touch and how when he tips his head back and turns his face, Jack kisses him, deep and messy, his cock pressing into Bitty’s lower back. When the kiss ends, Jack tips his chin down to watch, and it makes Bitty roll his hips just a little. Jack bites back a groan, and Bitty stretches to kiss him again.

Kent pulls off and takes a few hard breaths, and Bitty watches him, the slide of his right hand fast and short around the top of Bitty’s cock, his other hand planted on the bed to hold himself up. His lips are parted slightly, dark and shiny, and his eyes are half-lidded. He slows his strokes dramatically, clenching tighter, and the change of speed and pressure brings Bitty’s hips up off the bed with a desperate whine.

Jack groans quietly, the sound buzzing against Bitty’s shoulders, and he holds on to Bitty’s hip, steadying him. When Kent folds over to use his mouth again, he moves his hand out of the way, taking Bitty in deep, all the way to the back of his throat.

“Oh god,” Bitty says again, watching Kent’s jaw work around him, the way his cheeks curve inward. Bitty taps quickly at Kent’s shoulder with an unsteady hand, breathing harder. “I’m—so close, I’m gonna—” but Kent doesn’t even pause, not even when Bitty’s moans grow louder, and Bitty comes in hard pulses into Kent’s mouth, shaking in Jack’s arms.

Kent crawls up to them, catlike, swallowing hard before darting his tongue out to the corner of his mouth, catching a stray drop from there. He kisses Jack first, both of them groaning into it, and Bitty kisses the underside of Kent’s jaw, his skin a little rough there, the faint traces of his facial hair. Kent grins, a little smug before kissing Bitty, quick and dirty.

“Will you fuck me, Zimms?” Kent asks, the tremble in his voice betraying his casual tone.

Jack aligns his lips with Bitty’s ear, his voice low and quiet. “Is that okay?”

Bitty nods quickly, his limbs still loose and pliant, his heart just starting to slow down some. “Course, yeah.”

Kent kisses him suddenly, surprising him; the warm, firm press of his lips unwavering for a long moment before he slowly draws back. From the expression Kent has afterward, all wide-eyed and wistful, Bitty decides to accept it as gratitude.

He doesn’t really want to move—he’s warm and sated in Jack’s arms—but he does, letting Kent fit himself into Jack’s lap unimpeded. Bitty reclines beside them, watching them as they kiss and shift and try to get closer, Jack’s strong hands holding tight to Kent’s hips, Kent’s arms wrapped around Jack’s shoulders. They kiss for a long time, like they’re learning how all over again, before Jack nudges Kent up and away. Kent ends up on his back, angled toward the far corner of the bed, sprawling diagonally.

Jack slides away and off the edge of the bed, rolling to his feet to go retrieve the little bag on the dresser that contains the lube and the condoms.

“Bits,” Kent says, loosely curling a hand at Bitty’s ankle, jostling it slightly. “Anyone ever call you ‘Bits?’”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Bitty smiles, sitting up a little more so he can look at Kent.

Jack’s already on his way back, and Kent sits up on his forearms. “You wanna help us out, here?”

Kent’s eyeing him hopefully, and he draws a knee up, letting it fall toward the mattress.

“If you want me to,” Bitty says, shifting closer, “sure.”

“Yes please,” Kent grins, and Jack settles between Kent’s thighs, snapping the cap open on the lube.

Kent stays on his forearms, parting his thighs open and bending his knees. Jack gets started, slicking his fingers liberally and pushing one in, slow and careful, watching Kent’s face. Bitty never really thought about this part of it before; the bulk of his fantasizing was spent on the acts themselves, not the lead-up. Kent’s making all these gorgeous noises though, biting his lip and then letting it go as Jack works his finger in and draws it back out slowly over and over.

“Shit, Zimms,” Kent says, letting his head fall back a little, his eyes closed. “Yeah.”

His cock is rigid and flushed, resting against his lower belly, and Bitty watches it rise a little when Jack pushes in and Kent groans.

“Bits,” Kent says, and Bitty shifts over right beside Jack, picking up the lube.

As soon as Bitty’s got his fingers good and slick, Jack pulls his hand away, and Kent protests.

“No, no—both,” he pleads. “Both of you. Together.”

It’s an odd sensation, his hand practically tangled with Jack’s, each of them with a finger pressing inside Kent in unison, and hearing the wet sounds of the lube around them between Kent’s moans. Kent looks half-wrecked from it though, his face flushed and his hands clenched tight in the bedcovers. His cock is leaking, clear thick drops onto his abs, and just like that it’s one of the hottest things Bitty’s ever seen. Kent asks for more, whining through his words, and Jack adds a finger for a few strokes before Bitty does too.

Jack puts Kent on his hands and knees, turning so they face the headboard again. Bitty moves too, propped up against the pillows, beside Kent but close enough that he could lean over and kiss him if he wanted to. Jack is up on his knees behind him, his gaze cast downward as he rolls on a condom. He starts pressing his fingers into Kent again, and Kent makes a short, impatient sound, shifting restlessly.

“Zimms, _come on_.”

“Bossy,” Jack says, using both hands to line himself up, biting his lip before he starts to push in, careful and slow.

The sound Kent makes—all high pitched, needy and relieved at the same time—has Bitty half hard again. Jack sinks in, inch by inch, and Kent inhales sharp, letting it out slow.

“Oh fuck, Parse,” Jack says, once his hips are snug against Kent’s, and when he opens his eyes, he looks right at Bitty.

Bitty drops his hand down between his hips, letting his fingertips trace lightly against the length of his cock. He bites his lower lip, keeping his gaze on Jack, recalling their easy conversations of fantasy mixed up with Jack’s reluctantly confessed memories. He wonders which of those are going through Jack’s mind right now.

Jack starts to move, holding tight to Kent’s hips, rocking against them before pulling back a little, and then pressing in again. He shifts on his knees, nudging Kent’s apart a bit more, changing the angle. When Kent drops to his forearms, tucking his face against his elbow, Bitty gets a better view of the length of Kent’s body, and the way Jack has a hold of him, thrusting into him in a hard, fast rhythm. Bitty grabs up the lube, squeezing some into his hand, and starts to stroke himself in time with Jack’s thrusts.

When Kent reaches back to touch himself, Jack pauses, leaning over and gently pulling Kent’s hand away, pressing a lingering kiss between his shoulders. Jack says something against his skin in French that Bitty doesn’t catch, but when Jack moves back, withdrawing completely, Kent turns over onto his back.

Jack gets his shoulders under Kent’s knees, folding him in half as he lines up and pushes inside him again. Bitty can’t really see anything anymore aside from the top of Kent’s head and Jack’s face, but it doesn’t matter; he knows how good it feels, bent in half beneath Jack like that. He gets to have it all the time.

He watches Jack’s face, recognizes when he’s starting to get close, the way his brow furrows as he’s trying to hold out. Bitty strokes himself harder, purposefully now, and it’s he and Jack who come at the same time, Bitty into his hand, Jack inside Kent, who follows them a moment later.

*

Bitty is awakened by the sound of hushed voices, gentle rustling and quiet footfalls. The thick curtains are closed tight over the large windows, and he has no idea what time it is, and doesn’t care to investigate, either. He stays still and listens to Jack and Kent’s words carrying over from the other end of the room, the soft exchange of their goodbyes. There’s a brief silence, and then the barely perceptible sound of tender kisses, lips meeting and parting several times over. Bitty presses his own lips together, pinching the lower one in his teeth. The door to the suite clicks open, and after several seconds it clicks shut again.

Jack returns to the bed and when he starts to climb in, Bitty rolls over with a slow stretch.

“Hey,” Jack says, still whispering as he slips under the covers. His hair is sticking up in a few different places, and it makes Bitty smile.

“Hi.”

“Sorry I woke you.” He settles on his back and pulls Bitty close, getting an arm around to hold him.

“S’okay,” Bitty replies, yawning a little into Jack’s chest as he cuddles up.

Jack’s fingers find their way into Bitty’s hair. “Parse said to tell you goodbye.”

“Mmh,” Bitty hums in acknowledgement, closing his eyes again. There’s a long enough silence that he feels himself start to drift off, but Jack’s voice brings him right back.

“He also said I should be sure to let you take care of me.”

Bitty smiles gently. “What’d you say?”

“I said I would try.”

“Good,” Bitty says, turning his face enough to press a kiss to Jack’s skin. “Very good.”

Somewhere on the horizon and moving closer there are things that will soon need Bitty’s attention: itineraries and obligations, necessary but unwanted farewells, a long flight back to the other side of the country. They'll arrive in due time. But for now there's only the comfort of Jack's steady breathing, the familiar warmth of his chest, and the way that, if he inhales deep and slow enough, Bitty can still detect faint traces of Kent's cologne lingering around them.


End file.
